


Slipping Through My Fingers

by Selkiessong



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Infertility, Petyr is his own warning, References to Depression, Sad and Sweet, Stalking, That may change, one shot for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 04:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkiessong/pseuds/Selkiessong
Summary: Two women. One chance meeting. Sometimes you need a stranger to talk to.





	Slipping Through My Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> I know! I have two WIP, but this story was saying "write me, write me".

 

  There were times when Daenerys desperately needed someone to talk to. She had a wonderful husband and amazing friends, but none of them quite understood because none of them were, as she had taken to calling herself, ‘not broken’.  Not broken because _broken_ implied she was less than herself, that she was only the sum of her parts, but ‘not broken’ because being more than the sum of her parts didn’t mean she felt _whole._ She’s angry; at fate, at herself for those sharp stabs of jealousy she feels when she sees a pregnant woman or a mother holding her baby, at people who say that she’s too talented to waste herself on motherhood. And she mourns. She mourns a loss she never experienced. No matter what she decides she will never have what countless idiotic teenagers have, she will never effortlessly conceive. If, if she decides to go forward she will have her own child, but it isn’t the same. She’s grateful the technology exists, she’s worried that something will be missing if a baby is conceived in a lab instead of inside her, she’s afraid her father’s shadow will rear its ugly head like a demonic jack-in-the-box, she’s-

   “Please pretend you know me.”

    Dany was about to scream with pent up frustration, to take the last few months of bad news out on the woman who slid into the chair opposite her, completely uninvited, when the tone of voice registered. With her eyes dilated so wide that her iris is barely visible the woman is obviously frightened, and she nods and pastes on a false megawatt smile.

   “I’m sorry, I don’t usually run over to perfect strangers, but I have someone following me, and-“

   “Ex-boyfriend?” Dany asked sympathetically, feeling a bit more surefooted. No matter how much of a mess she was as a potential parent she was one of the best in the force with stalkers.

   “No! Contrary to what he believes, he was never my boyfriend and he’s never going to _be_ my boyfriend. I mean,” she continues a bit hysterically, but still quietly, “I’m married to another man, I’ve told him over and over that I’m happy, that I love my husband, but he doesn’t _listen_ and he goes on and on how we’re meant to be together, that one day I’ll wake up and see it, that he’s doing this for my own good.”

   “So creepy stalker with a crush.”

   “Actually he’s more like an amalgam of  Thenardier and Frollo from the Disney movie with a dash of Dorian Grey.”

   “You lost me.”

   “Sorry,” the woman said sheepishly. Now that Dany has gotten a better look she guesses the two of them are around the same age.  “I’m a bit of a nerd. Basically, he’s a combination of the sleaziest guy you can imagine, a man who’s obsessed with a woman to the point where he’ll kill her if she doesn’t choose him, and a man who essentially sold his soul.”

   “Sounds charming. Have you thought of filing a restraining order?”

   The woman laughs.

   “I did. Then he told me that he has something on everyone. I believe him.”

   “Not everyone has something to hide,” Dany pointed out, her pride stung. Police officers were humans, they made mistakes, but most of them were upstanding people who took their roles as protectors seriously.

   “They do. It can be nothing, something stupid they did as teenagers, and he’ll make it something it wasn’t. Everyone’s made a mistake, said something they regretted, has something that can be turned into something it wasn’t. My husband had a fight with his ex-wife one night. There was a lot of yelling, she threw dishes at him, cracked a glass over his hand, a neighbor called the police, and he’s the one who ended up in cuffs.”.

   “That’s awful.” What’s worse is that she can see something like that happening, an officer responding to a domestic violence call and only seeing what they expect to see. Uncomfortable, she changes the topic. “What made you trust me?”

   “You looked sad.”

   “I looked sad?!?” She’d expected something along the lines that she was a tiny woman.

   “Yes? I mean, I don’t think a serial killer would look sad. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a busybody, but I thought you’d be a safe choice.”

   “I am,” her admission shocked her, but what the hell. The woman’s a stranger, she’ll probably never see her again, and she seems kind, explaining herself without seeming condescending. “My appendix ruptured when I was younger,” she said flatly, “and I just found out that my tubes are blocked. The doctors said that happens sometimes.”

   “That sucks.”

   “You?” The straightforward reply encourages her, no “I’m sorry”, no assumptions of how she feels, no requests for more information, just a heartfelt acknowledgment. “Any children?”

   “You’re going to think I’m a terrible person,” she answered looking at the scarred table between them, “I, we, want children, but I’m afraid. I had severe depression for a few years,” apparently it’s tell-your-dark-secrets-to-a-stranger day, “and one of my therapists had me track my symptoms, and I have the PMS that’s mood related. When I went on birth control…it was amazing, I was able to get through a month without worrying that this would be the month I’d be hospitalized, I was able to go back to school, hold down a job. Women like me are high risk for post-partum depression,” she finished awkwardly, “and I’m scared. I want children, but I’m scared.”

   “That sucks.” It’s the only thing she can think to say.

   “Sansa!” A tall man came hurrying toward them with a look that Dany’s very familiar with. It’s the same way Jon looks at her when she’d gotten back from interrogating someone who could have hurt her. “Are you alright? What did Baelish do this time?”

  “It wasn’t so bad.” Now that the man is closer she can see the deep scars on the back of his hand from where he would have lifted his hand to shield his face. “He just made a few comments and followed me. He didn’t grab me this time.”

   _This time? He didn’t grab her this time!_ Ugh. She needs to get this guy off her streets.

   “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, love.”

    “The system you thought up worked. Go into the first public place, send you a text, try and find someone who will notice if he tries anything. At least we know that.”

   “Still,” the man said pulling her into a hug that she melts into. “Let’s go home.”

   After the two of them had left with thank-you’s and a whispered “good-luck” from Sansa, Dany pulled out her cell and hit speed dial.

   “Hi Jon.” What are the odds? Two not-broken women meeting. “I made a decision.”

**Author's Note:**

> So how was it? *looks around hopefully*


End file.
